


Somnus

by cosmicbubble



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blood and Violence, But also like not really bc he keeps coming back, Character Death, Gen, Hurt Noctis Lucis Caelum, M/M, angsty, different timelines, ignis goes through a lot, like a lot of hurt I’m sorry noctis, the astrals are mentioned but did I name them nope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 10:37:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15168884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicbubble/pseuds/cosmicbubble
Summary: After Noctis dies, Ignis strikes a deal with the Gods. If he can keep Noctis from dying in another world, he can bring Noctis back to life. If he fails, then he loses his own life in the process.But for Ignis, a world without Noctis isn’t worth it.





	Somnus

_ Everything feels cold - the chill rushes up through his spine, stretching out to tickle at the tips of his fingers. Ignis breathes in, and for a moment, he feels as though the very sound of his lungs pulling in air echoes across the empty room. It’s a grand room, filled with the most decadent of furniture, but he’s the only soul standing about. _

 

_ He’s early, he knows, but he can’t help it. The king had told him, “This is going to be very important, and I want you to be there as soon as you can.” Of course, the king had to be just the slightest bit later. Ignis doesn’t mind. Even at twelve, he knows what every detail of the king’s agenda entailed.  _

 

_ Ignis has worked with Noctis for six years now - Noctis, the crown prince of Lucis. His heart warms at the thought of his name. A sweet, kind child, and it’s up to Ignis to make sure he remains that way. Today is only the formal ceremony, the day where the world knows that Ignis Scientia is to be the retainer of the future king of Lucis. _

 

_ Laughter begins to bubble up and echo through the hallways of the Citadel, and Ignis feels some of the cold push away. The laughter is light, joyful, and matches the pace of the footsteps coming his way. As the steps grow closer and closer, shivering cold is replaced by a soothing warmth, starting at the very crevices in his heart and expanding ever further. _

 

_ When Noctis stands in front of him, cheeks round with a grand smile and eyes wide, everything feels whole again. And when Noctis reaches out and grabs hold of his hand, clenching onto it tightly - as tightly as he can, considering his hands are smaller - Ignis feels an overwhelming, protecting warmth wash over him. _

 

_ Noctis is his to look after, his to protect - and Gods be damned, he’s going to make sure Noctis ascends to the throne. _

  
  
  


When he wakes, it’s cold. A shiver runs through Ignis’s body, and he directs his gaze to the ceiling above him. Cracks, shaped like veins, fan out across the walls and up into his line of sight. He raises his hand into the air and for a moment, a fleeting and impossible moment, feels the warmth of Noctis’s hand in his - as though he’s back to that same time, the time when Noctis would so easily hold onto his hand. When he was afraid, when he was nervous, when the aching sensation of loneliness grew to be too much in the middle of the night, and he clasped onto Ignis like a lifeline as they watched and counted the stars in the Citadel courtyard.

 

But it’s not real, because as quickly as the sensation arrives, it leaves, and everything is back to the same chill. Everything comes surging back into reality, and his entire body feels heavier as a result.

 

Ignis falls into his morning routine - dress for the day, in his usual formal outfit, comb and style his blond hair. Enough lights, enough vision, has returned to his eyes to at least accomplish that much. As the world continues to change, continues to progress under the light of the sun, perhaps he would have the ability to see more.

 

He grimaces, and continues about his day.

 

“You’re up early again,” a gruff voice comments as Ignis finds his way into the throne room. It’s unnervingly cold, as though not a single cell in his body could ever be warm again, but perhaps he will grow used to the feeling. Perhaps he won’t. 

 

Ignis shrugs and replies, “I could say the same about you, Gladio. You always liked being able to sleep in.” His mind conjures up pictures of Gladio, ten years younger and strong, sleeping in until a gentle six in the morning, before finding a way to wake up the sleeping prince as a way of extra training. A smile tickles the corner of Ignis’s lips, but does not spill through.

 

“You know me,” Gladio chuckles, “I’ve got too much to do to sleep in these days. Gotta rebuild the military, since Cor didn’t want to be in charge of it.”

 

They’re walking now, into the royal gardens that Ignis is sure remains as splendid as it did before - brilliant greens, vibrant reds and yellows, gentle and soothing blues and purples, and Noctis’s favorite sylleblossom. Or rather, what’s left of it - a young Noctis, naive in the ways of gardening, tried to plant Luna’s favorite flower in his own garden, only for it to wither and leave an empty patch of dirt in its place. When the palace gardener decided to cover the patch with another flower bush, Noctis had sobbed and demanded the spot be left clean, just in case the flower decided to bloom - so he could show Luna, he had said.

 

Nothing ever grew from that patch of dirt - not even now, as Ignis runs his hands against it and only feels the grainy soil beneath his fingertips.

 

He hears Gladio shift beside of him, heaving a sigh before remaining quiet. It’s as though the tickle of words unsaid are playing at his lungs, and Ignis knows Gladio better than anyone, besides perhaps Prompto. But that man, in his infinite wisdom, had decided to help with the rebuilding of the residential districts. 

 

“You know,” Ignis says quietly, “You can tell me what’s on your mind. I know there’s something.”

 

Gladio clears his throat and for a moment, the pair are thrust into silence again. Ignis is patient, and Ignis waits until his dear friend is ready. There’s a breath, and then Gladio’s words come pouring out, “I know how much you miss Noct. We all do, and there’s no time that I don’t think about him, and how much easier this would be with him by our side.”

 

Ignis feels the morning sun against his cheek - normally a warm, calming sensation, but Ignis doesn’t think he’s felt warmth from the sun for more than a decade. His sun, his reason for being, has already been extinguished.

 

“But you need to find ways to move on,” Gladio continues, his words painful and twisting, “There’s so much to do here, and there’s so much he wanted you to do, whether he was there or not. You have to be ready to do that.”

 

“I think I’ve done a fair job of it,” Ignis replies.

 

Gladio snorts, “Bullshit. You always seem to be thinking about him. I don’t mean that you can’t think about him anymore, but he’s not going to come waltzing through these doors. He’s not coming back, and it’s something we all have to accept.”

 

Ignis moves his head, and Gladio takes it as a nod. Or rather, he must have, because he says, “I’m here when you need to talk about him. I, I miss him too, you know.” A hand gently lands on his shoulder for a moment before relinquishing his grip, and he hears the heavy footsteps of Gladio as he walks away. Ignis is left alone now, in the garden where memories of Noctis flitter about with the feeling of the wind.

 

His day moves about just as all the rest of done - slowly, without a moment of rest. Ignis’s main job since light has returned has been the reformation of the Insomnian government, especially when it comes to finding a new ruler. His search has been fruitless, and many a sleepless night has been spent mulling over the facts.

 

When he closes his eyes, taking a moment of solace from the whirlwind around him, he can see Noctis’s face. It’s from when they first began their journey together - an exhausted prince, fatigue tugging at his eyelids, but a beaming smile on his face nonetheless. Even when they fought into the morning to retrieve their car, Noctis still took it all in stride. Even when he discovered his father had passed, he kept moving forward.

 

Ignis feels his chest tighten, and he instinctively shakes his head. Not now - he cannot allow his mind to wander now. He must focus, or he will allow himself to drop into ruin.

 

Because Noctis isn’t coming back - not now, and not ever. He has to accept that, and yet . . . 

  
  


_ “Perhaps if you spent less time groaning and more time practicing, you will not make an embarrassment of yourself,” Ignis quips, a smirk toying across his face. Noctis is sitting in the middle of the ballroom, hands folded in front of his chest. He remembers this moment vividly - nearly twenty, with just weeks before their journey to Luna began, Noctis was required to learn to dance. _

 

_ Noctis huffs, “It’s not like training with Gladio or even my tutoring. This is so hard, I keep tripping over my own two feet.” _

 

_ “Better yours than Luna’s.” _

 

_ Noctis groans again, this time allowing himself to fall to the ballroom floor, back against the hard ground. He takes in a deep breath and stretches out his right knee before retorting, “Well, at this rate, she won’t want to marry me because I can’t even keep my balance.” _

 

_ “Let’s keep trying,” Ignis replies, reaching his hand down to the complaining prince. “Perhaps if you had a partner, you would find the steps easier. Let me guide you.” _

 

_ Noctis takes his hand - he’s grown so much, Ignis muses, and yet his hand still remains smaller than his own - and with Ignis’s help, returns to his feet. He sighs, “I guess. I mean, you already help me so much with everything, I don’t want to burden you.” _

 

_ “No more of those words. Here, let me show you.” _

 

_ Noctis is warm against him and for just a moment, Ignis is transported amongst the stars - he’s not the retainer to the prince, and Noctis is no longer royalty. They’re two people, holding the most care in each other, enjoying a dance. And Ignis feels at peace with that. Here, with Noctis, is where he wants to stay. _

 

_ It’s where he’ll always stay. _

  
  
  


Ignis awakens to the sound of his phone vibrating against the table, harshly interrupting the silence he’s created. He awakens easily enough - he always does - and answers with a simple, “Yes?”

 

“Hey,” Gladio says, voice gruff and grainy with fatigue, “Just wanted to . . . I don’t know, I wanted to apologize for my words yesterday. I didn’t think about how you might feel, and shit, I don’t know. I miss him too.”

 

Ignis smiles and replies, “I know you do. But you’re right, he won’t find his way back to us. We have to find a way to move on without him. Hard as that may seem.”

 

There’s silence on the line between them for just a moment, and Ignis breathes. Today feels more suffocating than normal, the sweltering heat from the sun already creeping its way into his room. A hot summer day - August, Ignis recalls. 

 

He tries not to think about what month it is. He tries not to.

 

“Look, Prompto is coming to visit, and I’ve got work cut out for me today,” Gladio says, finally breaking the silence, “It might do you some good to talk to him.”

 

Ignis agrees to meet with Prompto and hangs up the phone. His usual routine, one that would typically numb him as much as possible, has been disrupted. Perhaps it won’t be too bad, he muses.

  
  


Prompto is loud when he eats - Ignis knows this, but he always forgets the intensity of the sound until he’s met with it again. Today, Prompto has brought along some fried foods, and the crunch as he eats them feels mind-boggling.

 

“How are the people outside?” Ignis asks, breaking the monotony of Prompto’s meal. The other blond swallows down his food quickly and laughs sheepishly.

 

“Well, it’s getting better every day,” he replies, “But there’s still so much to do. There’s so many people without homes and just, they seem to miss their king. I know I do.”

 

Ignis’s shoulders stiffen. He takes a deep breath and says, “We all do.”

 

“Yeah, but they’re talking about some crazy stuff,” Prompto interjects, “One lady was telling me ‘bout this old myth passed down in her family. She said that when someone dies, you can ask the Gods for help to bring them back.”

 

Ignis hums, trying to show mild interest. There’s no such thing as reviving the dead, certainly not in any healthy way, at the very least. Noctis is gone. Noctis is gone.

 

And yet, Prompto continues, “She said if the Gods come to you, you can make a deal with them to try and bring the person back. But she said it’s never truly happened before. People have tried but, well, those people tend to vanish, too.” 

 

“Sounds like a story to explain away people going missing due to daemons,” Ignis replies quietly. Prompto also stays silent for a moment before he chuckles.

 

“I suppose you’re right,” he replies, “But it would be pretty cool if it happened. We’d have a chance to get Noct back and man, I’d love for him to see all of the cool things that we’ve been doing to bring the kingdom back to his former glory.”

 

For just a moment, Ignis allows himself to imagine it - Noctis, just as he was when he emerged from the Crystal, taking in all of the new sights, the new buildings being recreated, the people coming together for the sake of returning the city to its former glory. He would smile that same, quiet smile that he does when he feels truly happy. His eyes would light up, and there would be no need for words.

 

Prompto leaves shortly after their conversation, giving a quick, “Always so many things to do. See you around!” Ignis listens until his footsteps are no more before he returns to his work for the day.

 

But even though there are many tasks for him to complete, many daunting things that need immediate attention, Ignis keeps going back, Prompto’s words echoing through his head.

 

What if there  _ was  _ a way to bring Noctis back? What if, pray tell, you could make a deal with the Gods in exchange for bringing a person back to the world, safe and sound?

 

He settles in for the evening with that thought on his mind, and he thinks to himself,  _ “What I wouldn’t give for Noctis to return to us. To return to me.”  _ He drifts off to sleep with his favorite image reappearing in his mind.

 

It’s of Noctis, seated on the throne - where he belongs. His shoulders are confident, his expression is collected, and a grin crosses his face as he looks to Ignis. Ignis, always to be his second command, always to be by his side. Ignis cannot help but smile, even in his dreams.

 

_ “Perhaps this dream is worth becoming reality - do you believe it so, Ignis Scientia?” _

 

Ignis is awake, and yet he’s not. He’s standing, and when he glances down to see just what material he’s standing upon, he sees nothing but glimmering stars and the infinite galaxy beneath him.

 

Certainly a dream, he decides - but an unusual one, as he’s never dreamed something like this before. His eyesight has returned, as it usually does in his dream sequences, but it’s typically only when he dreams of past events. Last he’s checked, he’s never been floating along with starlight.

 

He turns his attention to the empty space in front of him, where stars are swirling and mixing together in a circular motion. Ignis raises his eyebrows and calls out, “Is there anyone there?”

 

There’s just a moment where there’s silence, Ignis accompanied by only the empty stars - before a voice calls out,  _ “There’s something you desire more than anything in the world. Do you wish to make it so?” _

 

It’s the pattern of stars before him, and the voice is booming, commanding. Ignis drifts back to the conversation he had with Prompto, and the story he believed to be nothing but a myth.

 

Ignis stays silent, so the voice continues,  _ “Noctis Lucis Caelum - the King of Kings, and gone from the world far too soon. It’s not far fetched to assume you would like for him to return to the world, to return to you, would it?” _

 

There’s a laughter to the voice, a mocking tone, and Ignis masks a grimace. He doesn’t truly know what’s going on, but his mind remains ever sharp even in the realm of dreams - one of the Astrals, one of the Gods, is speaking to him. And he’s certain it’s about the story Prompto told him.

 

The story that proclaims the dead can be brought back - if requirements are fulfilled.

 

“I know what you are implying,” Ignis finally speaks, turning his attention to the spinning stars before him. His gaze is unrelenting as he continues, “I can bring Noctis back - but there’s something I have to do in order to succeed. Am I correct.”

 

There’s laughter, and then,  _ “You are. I should have known that you would have heard of this tale. After all, your desperation, your sorrow, is so heavy we can smell it above the sky.” _

 

Ignis doesn’t say anything to this, merely crosses his arms in front of his chest.

 

_ “We can give you the opportunity to bring Noctis back to you - but of course, you’ll have to save him first. Save his life in one of the paths we give to you, and you can bring him back with you. But if you can’t, if you fail in every path we give you, not only will you not be able to bring Noctis back to you, but you will remain here. Only the stars will be your company, for as long as you live.” _

 

Ignis hears it all, he truly does - that if he doesn’t save Noctis, then they’re both lost to the stars. He knows that, but the first thing he says is, “How many attempts do I get?”

 

There’s another chuckle, grand and booming, echoing across the empty space. Ignis stifles a shudder, but he remains steadfast. His expression is ever the same - jaw taut, eyebrows furrowed, glaring in the direction of the voice. His shoulders remain pushed back.

 

_ “However many it takes for it to sink in. Do we have a deal? Are you going to risk your life in order to save another? Risk your life with a possibility of failure?” _

 

Ignis chokes back a laugh, though a smirk still plays on his face. Perhaps they don’t understand who they’re talking to - who he’s fighting to save.

 

“I would go to the ends of the earth, trade his life for my own,” Ignis chokes back, “I’ll do anything it takes to see to it that Noctis returns to his rightful place. I accept.”

 

There’s a loud popping noise, and a spark appears before him. It glimmers and glows, and stands before him unmoving. Another chuckle, and a quick,  _ “Then I can send you on your first path. Each one will be different from the last - you may be close to him, you may be a stranger. But in each, his life is always in danger. Prevent his death, and we will bring him back to you. Grip hold of the star in front of you, and you can begin.” _

 

Ignis does not need to be told directions twice. His hand trembles just slightly - he knows that if he succeeds, he can bring Noctis back to him, and the knowledge of that burden becomes overwhelming for the slightest moment - as he grabs hold of the spark before him, holding it tightly in his hand.

 

He closes his eyes and for just a moment, an image of Noctis flashes in his mind; Noctis, smiling and reaching out for his hand. Ignis yearns to reach out and grab hold, but instead the image vanishes.

 

It disappears like smoke swirling in the sky, or the stars giving way to the daylight.

 

////

 

When Ignis comes to again, he finds his head pressed against paper, body slouched over a wooden table. He grimaces, coming up to brush against his cheek, the skin warm with embarrassment. He prides himself on his ability to maintain calm and dignity at all times, whether it be truth or a facade, but falling asleep in a chair against a wooden table? Certainly not his brightest moment.

 

He takes a moment to look over his surroundings - a simple home, sparsely decorated, save for an old television seated on an old shelf. It must be his own, he decides, and he stands up to look for the nearest sink.

 

When he finds one, in the lone bathroom of the home, he takes a moment to splash water against his face. It’s cool and grounds him, bringing him back to the reality of the situation. This must be the first path - the first opportunity he has to save Noctis.

 

“Noctis,” he breathes out, returning to the living room and turning on the television. It’s just for a moment, he decides - perhaps it will help him gather himself if he knows the current situation of the world around him. After all, Noctis could still be the prince here, or he could be a commoner just like himself.

 

The television screen brightens to life, and the reporter’s voice, dull and heavy, fills the room.

 

_ “Today we have the great honor of listening to King Regis Lucis Caelum give his ascension speech. His son, Noctis Lucis Caelum, has come of age, and according to previous reports from the Citadel, the king feels it is time for his son to taken charge of the throne. This is before young prince Noctis is set to begin his rule, happening a week from today. The speech takes place at three in the afternoon in the Citadel square, and all Insomnian citizens are invited to partake in this grand event. Now, moving on to the weather reports.” _

 

Ignis hums, moving to turn off the television. He’s gathered the information he needs - Noctis will be at the square in a few short hours, and he needs to be able to get there to speak to him. He has to - he already knows that his life is in danger.

 

He checks his phone - miraculously still in working condition, but there appears to be no signal - to see the time. Ten in the morning. He slept in quite a bit, and he grimaces. At least the gods are not only kind enough to return him his sight, but they’ve given him just a short amount of time.

 

Ignis decides going out into the city would be better than staying cooped up in this unfamiliar home, and so he sets out, closing the door and walking into the city.

 

The streets remain familiar - it seems that the only thing that’s changed in this path is Ignis’s standing. He’s not Noctis’s loyal retainer anymore, but a typical citizen living just outside of Insomnia’s busy market streets. It’s an enviable position, and Ignis moves with a quickened step towards the food and goods stalls that litter the main square during the daytime.

 

Voices buzz about around him, a joyous hum surrounding the area. It seems that everyone is excited for the upcoming speech, because every word he makes out all has to do with Regis, with Noctis, and with the opportunity to walk into the Citadel.

 

“You look like you could use a meal,” a voice calls out to him. He turns in the direction of the voice to see a familiar woman, with short blonde hair and a jovial grin on her face.

 

Cindy - though now she’s no longer a mechanic. Perhaps it’s not just Noctis that reappears in these paths.

 

He takes her up on her offer and takes a seat at one of the wooden tables near her stall. She brings to him a hot coffee and a sweet pastry before leaving him be. There still remains a hustle to the world around him, but all Ignis can focus on is the empty chair before him. 

 

For just a moment, he allows himself to think of Noctis. He thinks of his smile, and he thinks of the speech later in the afternoon. The Noctis he knows always hates public speaking, and his cheeks blush at even the idea of it. He stumbles on his words, as though they’re stuck to his tongue, and he would often simply give up in their practices together. But he had been improving, and he hears Noctis’s words echo in his head,  _ “It’s because I have someone like you to help me - you always help me with everything.” _

 

There’s a ruckus in front of him, the sound of wood scraping against stone pulling him from his thoughts. Someone takes a seat in the chair across from him, putting his head against the table and cradling it in his arms to mask his face from view. Ignis furrows his eyebrows.

 

He opens his mouth to say something when he sees soldiers - garbed in the uniform of the Citadel - come tearing through the main plaza. They’re murmuring to each other, though Ignis can make out a few sentences of the conversation. 

 

“You think he went this way?” One of the soldiers asks, moving his head this way and that, as though looking desperately for something.

 

“He probably went further in to all the other shops,” the other replies, “He’s probably trying to lose himself in the crowd. He can’t hide his way out of this one.” The two soldiers take off then, running for the busier parts of the market, where hordes of people have gathered to buy and sell their wares for the day.

 

Ignis turns his attention to the man who’s come to sit at his table, and his stomach churns as a wave of familiarity hits him. A head of dark hair, styled to poke out in all different directions greets him. He’s wearing dark clothing - just like the fatigues Noctis wore on their journey, Ignis muses. They bear a striking resemblance.

 

Then the head raises up with a heavy sigh, and Ignis, who knows how damning it can be to wear your emotions upon your face, cannot help the look of shock that crosses his expression.

 

Noctis is sitting at his table. His cheeks are tinged pink, and his eyes are moving back and forth, from Ignis to the crowd around them. He sighs again and says, 

“Sorry about that. I hope you don’t mind - me dropping in like that, I guess.”

 

“It’s not a problem,” Ignis replies, and his heart is hammering in his chest, incessantly so. Noctis had come to him, almost fallen into his lap - he couldn’t imagine a better fortune.

 

He would be so much easier to protect this way.

 

Noctis laughs and says, “Thanks. I uh, well, I hope you have a better day today. Maybe no one else will come jumping into your quiet meals.” He gets up to move, and Ignis, for the first time in quite a while, panics.

 

“Sir,” he says, and Noctis turns to look at him. His words spill out from him, “Good luck at your speech today. Remember all that you’ve learned, and be safe.”

 

Noctis turns to look at him with surprise, and he mumbles, “How did you know I was . . ?”

 

Ignis doesn’t answer.

 

But Noctis seems to take it all in stride, because he then smiles and says, “Thank you. If you’re there this afternoon, I hope I can impress you. Maybe . . . ah, never mind.”

 

He walks away then, moving in quickened steps, favoring his left leg more than his right as he walks. The demon attack must have happened in this path, as well, with a similar outcome. He’s still the prince, after all.

 

Ignis watches until he can no longer see the prince’s back, and when he’s been brought back to the solitude of a busy street market, Ignis feels as though a whirlwind has plowed through. Noctis was here, and now Noctis has left again.

 

But he’s asking for Ignis to be at the speech this afternoon - it’s a first step toward his goal. Noctis is in sight and it won’t be long before he can keep the prince by his side. As long as Ignis stays with him, no harm will befall Noctis.

 

That is what Ignis has always believed, after all.

  
  


The morning comes  and goes, and before long, Ignis finds himself in a large crowd of people, all clamoring to get a glimpse of the king and the future king. A podium and stage has been created in the middle of the square, with citizens trying to find the best spot all around it. Ignis settles somewhere in the middle, where he can easily see the king - where he can easily see Noctis.

 

As he waits for the royal family to arrive, he runs through his plan one more time. Sometime during the event, he’s going to try to make eye contact with Noctis. After everything is said and done, he can ask for an audience with him, and then they can talk. From there, Ignis should be able to keep Noctis safe from any harm that should threaten to befall him.

 

The cheers of the crowd grow louder, numbingly so, and Ignis looks to see that both Regis and Noctis have arrived. Regis is just as he had been before - exuding confidence, even through his aging, and when he walks, a commanding presence follows. Noctis trails behind him, attempting to imitate his father’s demeanor. His shoulders are trembling, hardly noticeable, but Ignis sees it all the same. Noctis’s hands are balled into fists, and he’s looking desperately out into the audience. His eyes move from group to group of people, as though searching for something.

 

Noctis’s gaze lands on Ignis, where it remains for just the slightest moment. He smiles - just like the smile Ignis so fondly remembers - and gives a nod to Ignis before following after his father. Ignis allows himself to take a moment to sigh; everything is going according to plan. It’s the first path, and Ignis already can foresee a clear path to Noctis - a clear path to his future.

 

And then, just as Regis begins to address the crowd, someone screams.

 

Ignis feels the ground beneath his feet start to rumble, and he frantically looks around the square. All around him, soldiers - garbed in heavy metal, moving in short and snapped bursts - start to move into the crowd, weapons clenched tightly in their hands. When he blinks, he’s not in this path anymore - he’s back on his journey with Noctis, to see him to Altissia. They’re traveling in the car, wind blowing against their faces, when the sound of a cargo plane echoes above them, dropping down mechanical soldiers from Niflheim - trained and bred with a sole purpose of battle.

 

Niflheim has arrived, here at this speech. Ignis braces himself, calling on the power of the Crystal to receive his weapons. He grips for it in the air, holding tightly onto the image of a dagger - but nothing comes. Ignis’s hand grips onto air, grips onto a sense of hopelessness that begins to form in the pit of his stomach.

 

A woman not too far from him screams, and he hears a dull thump, and he doesn’t allow his mind to wander and imagine just what had happened. People all around him are fleeing - he hears people screaming another’s name, he hears children crying and screaming as loud as they possibly can, as if it will somehow offset the attack.

 

The panic that settled into his stomach begins to bloom, and Ignis quickly looks up to the royal family. Regis has his long sword, glimmering with the strength of the royal arms, as he slashes through one of the soldiers. His back is defenseless, and Ignis can only watch as another soldier creeps upon him, dagger gripped tightly in its right hand.

 

He moves then, lurching his entire body forward, and suddenly time begins to slow. His foot hasn’t pressed against the ground yet, his words, the screams, “Your Majesty,” unable to leave his throat. He’s moving slow, so very slow, but the scenery before him unfolds as though it’s a bolt of lightning. 

 

Noctis - dutiful, protective, skilled Noctis - leaps forward to cover his father’s back. In his hand is a sword, poised to strike. Instead, Ignis hears the clattering as it falls to the ground. The soldier takes a swing, and it sliced through skin and bone, cleaving into Noctis and sending him crashing to the ground.

 

The acrid smell of blood wafts up to Ignis, but he can’t bring himself to worry. He hears Regis yell - mournful, angry screaming as he lunges forward to finish off the soldier - and yet, he finds he cannot move.

 

“Well, this is a failure,” a man says from just behind Ignis. He turns to see a familiar head of auburn hair, a sickening smirk crossing his features as he shrugs, “I suppose it works out in the end, however. Come for the king, leave with the heart of the prince. Perhaps the king will soon follow in his grief.”

 

He turns to leave, the robotic soldiers following suit. Ignis doesn’t focus on them, doesn’t spare a glance as he sprints towards the makeshift stage, where Regis is on his knees. In his arms lies the prince, lies Noctis. A large gash from the top of his right shoulder crosses down his chest and ends at his left hip bone. There’s blood, pouring unceasingly, and Regis’s hands are aglow with the faint mint light of magic, but as Ignis watches, not a change occurs.

 

“Dad,” he coughs, eyes remaining tightly shut. He groans before he says, “I’m sorry. That wasn’t, wasn’t, supposed to happen.”

 

Ignis doesn’t have the opportunity to listen to Regis, because the world around him is fading from brilliant colors to a dull monochrome, Noctis’s skin white as a sheet, and then it starts to pull apart before him, disintegrating into specks Of dust that linger in the air and melt away. It’s all dark now.

 

Heart hammering in his chest, lungs tight with words unsaid, Ignis knows it means only one thing - he has failed, again. Noctis is gone.

 

The world fades into dust, and Ignis returns to the stars.

 

////

 

_ “One attempt wasn’t enough, I suppose.”  _ Ignis is surrounded by the stars again, but now, a looming sense of loneliness begins to creep through his veins. A deep breath keeps it at bay for just the moment, calming his nerves and soothing the adrenaline that continues to surge through his veins.

 

Ignis says, “I’ll keep trying. This time, I’ll make sure to keep him safe. I’m going to bring him back with me.”

 

_ “Sure,” there’s a chuckle, and then, “But perhaps this next path will help you see more clearly.” _

 

////

 

He’s warm again, and Ignis takes a moment to consider his surroundings. He’s not stuck amongst the stars again, but likely thrown into another path. A deep breath escapes him, and he recognizes the soft sensation of sheets and pillows resting beneath him. A bed - and judging by the light that’s peeking through the curtains just to the left of the bed, dawn is breaking.

 

Ignis allows himself to run his hand through his hair, a soothing motion all the same. When he closes his eyes, he sees Noctis, that long slash marring his features, his skin so pale, eyes glassy and becoming ever more distant. He can’t let that happen again - he’s not going to allow this for another moment. Noctis is  _ going  _ to stay safe this time. Ignis is going to succeed.

 

Someone in the room groans, and Ignis feels the mattress beneath him shift just slightly. It pulls Ignis out of his thoughts, out of his nightmares. The same person pulls at the blankets covering them both, and Ignis takes this opportunity to turn and face this stranger. Who could he possibly be with in this path? The only person that matters to him is -

 

A head of black hair greets him, and a voice filled with fatigue calls out, “Iggy, what are you doing up? It’s far too early.”

 

Noctis turns to face him, blue eyes open and staring right at him. There’s a playful expression swirling in them, and Ignis finds himself without words. He simply stares, watching as Noctis’s fringe moves as he tilts his head.

 

“This is the first time you’ve been speechless,” Noctis says quietly, sitting up and leaning over, closer to Ignis, “I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

 

He places a kiss on Ignis’s cheek. Ignis feels his cheeks heat up, and his mind rushes to reach its conclusion - in this path, they’re in a relationship. Together. Whether they are ordinary citizens or somehow still connected to royalty, they’ve etched out a world together all their own.

 

“I suppose it was a rough night,” Ignis finally says, giving Noctis a small smile. It’s the best excuse he can come up with, and he takes a moment to glance around the room. A clock sits on the wall, and the time says 7:03. Certainly much later than Ignis normally sleeps, but for Noctis, to be awake and speaking at this time is a true rarity. Ignis can hear the sound of the clock tick, tick,  _ ticking  _ away.

 

Noctis nods and replies, “You were tossing and turning in your sleep. Are you thinking about work? You know your presentation is going to go well, and it’s not even until tomorrow. Today’s your day off, so just relax.”

 

Ignis feels something warm press and curl against his hand, and he realizes it’s Noctis’s own. It warm and smaller than his - but only slightly - and Ignis has to hold his breath for a moment to keep from tightening his grip. It’s all too real; Noctis is here, with him again. They’re together, side by side, hand in hand. He has a day off from work - whatever his work is - and so he can stay close by his side.

 

He feels selfish - does he have a moment to allow himself to be so? Ignis takes the opportunity anyway and presses his lips against Noctis’s own. It’s only for a moment, just enough for Ignis to feel selfish, and then he pulls away. Noctis just smiles.

 

“Well, I better get ready for work,” he says, pulling the crisp blankets from his body and standing up. He’s without a shirt - of course, Ignis is too but he’s always slept this way in adulthood - and Noctis’s back is scar-free. No demon had the opportunity to attempt to take his life.

 

If demons even exist in this world - somehow, Ignis doesn’t see them posing a threat.

 

Noctis moves to go into the adjoining bathroom, but he turns to look back at Ignis as he says, “Going to stay in bed for a little longer? That’s not like you.”

 

“No,” Ignis shakes his head, “I think I’ll get some breakfast prepared. Anything special you’d like?”

 

Noctis smiles and replies, “No. Having breakfast with you is special enough.” 

  
  


Ignis prepares a simple breakfast of eggs and some bacon for Noctis, who wolfs it down quickly - just like always, Ignis thinks with a smile. It’s only minutes later when his plate is cleaned, and Ignis thinks he knows the routine from here. Noctis grabs his things for work, sharing a quick kiss before he leaves. Or rather, that’s what he guessed would be the next few steps.

 

Instead, Noctis remains seated at the dining room table, gaze directed at the emptied plate. He holds a fork between his fingers, poking at the plate light enough to make a small sound. Ignis stares at him for a few moments before he asks, “Something is weighing on you. What is it?”

 

“Nothing,” Noctis replies, keeping his gaze directed at the table. His shoulders stiffen and a sigh leaves his lips - even in another path, another world, Noctis still has the same movements he makes when he’s hiding the truth.

 

Ignis persists, “What is it? You can’t hide from me.”

 

There’s silence between the two of them, and Ignis counts to four in his head before Noctis finally directs his gaze at him. There’s something unknown staring back at him, and Ignis can’t quite pinpoint the emotion, but he waits for Noctis to speak.

 

“It’s weird,” he laughs, but there’s no humor to it as he continues, “I can’t help but feel like something bad is going to happen today. Like, if I step outside our home, I won’t ever be able to come back. Or you won’t come back. I don’t know, it just . . . I can’t help but feel worried.”

 

Ignis knows - he feels that same feeling vibrating through his entire being. The worst has already happened, and if it should continue to happen, he’s not entirely sure what he will do.

 

He tries to soothe his prince either way as he says, “You will make it back here today. When you do, we can celebrate with a nice dinner.”

 

“I’d like that,” Noctis smiles, but the emotion doesn’t creep into his eyes like it does when he’s truly happy. He grabs hold of the plate in front of him, and his shoulders remain tense. He helps Ignis with the clean up, and he quietly mumbles, “I can text you today, right?”

 

Ignis nods, “Always.” And he means it - he always does.

 

Noctis leaves to work then, carrying a small red backpack upon his shoulders. It’s old and worn, and a little note is scrawled across the fading fabric - “Always give your best.” It seems to Ignis that he handwriting remains the same across paths.

 

He gives Noctis a quick kiss to his cheek before he leaves, and Noctis hesitates for just a moment before he leaves, giving a quick wave. Again, Ignis watches him until he can no longer see his back, and then he returns inside of their home.

 

Apprehension grows in his chest, swelling uncomfortably and he drums his fingers against the kitchen countertops. Silence echoes through his ears, and he finds himself rummaging through the fridge, already beginning to make food for dinner. He hasn’t the faintest what to do with himself otherwise - if he stays still, there’s a nagging feeling that forms, as though the Gods could pull him beneath the floorboards and away from Noctis again.

 

Noctis texts - they’re short, sweet insights into his day, and they quell that unsettling feeling that Ignis feels.  _ “Prompto is freaking he spilled coffee on the boss’s papers.” “It’s so quiet in here today but it feels nice.” “Can’t wait to get home.” “Don’t sleep too much, or work too hard.” _

 

Ignis smiles every time he sees one, every time his phone lights up with another tidbit from Noctis.

 

It’s about noon, just as Ignis is settling in for a light lunch, when his phone comes to life again. He’s cleaned their home, organized Noctis’s belongings - he’s just as messy as he’s always been, and it makes Ignis smile.

 

He checks his phone to see it’s a call - perhaps Noctis is on a lunch break of his own, Ignis thinks, but that same unsettling, cold feeling begins to pool in the pit of his stomach. His fingers feel foreign, unfamiliar to him as he grips the cold metal of his phone in his hand.

 

“Noctis?”

 

“Hey,” there’s a light chuckle, but his voice is quiet. Hushed, as though he shouldn’t be able to speak on the phone with him at all. His heart races as Noctis spills, “I just, I want you to know I love you. I always will, ok?”

 

“Of course,” Ignis replies, eyebrows furrowed, “I’ll always love you, too.” The words, with their sickeningly sweet meaning, suddenly feels like venom atop his tongue.

 

The line goes dead.

 

Ignis fries to call back, heart racing with every time the phone rings without an answer. Once, twice, three times. Each time, he’s met with the same tired, recorded response -  _ “Hey, this is Noctis. I can’t come to the phone right now, but leave a message and when I feel like it, I’ll get back to you.” _

 

One more try, he tells himself - Noctis just left his phone somewhere, and when he comes back he can pick up. But instead,  _ “Hey, this is Noctis. I can’t-“ _

 

Ignis clenches his phone tightly, and the air in his lungs feels heavy. But he can’t do anything else, can’t do anything but call again and hear that same tone, the same voice message, over and over again and -

 

There’s a knock upon their door. They knock three times, hard and steady against the door and Ignis panics. It doesn’t sound like Noctis - but how would it be him, when Noctis is still supposed to be at work?

 

His legs turn to jelly, feeling detached from himself as he moves to open the door. Before him, standing at the entrance to his house, is an officer. His uniform is crisp, dark blue in contrast against the brilliant blue in the sky.

 

“This is the home of Noctis Caelum, correct?” His voice is devoid of emotion, and it pulls Ignis back for a moment. He thinks of the Kingsglaive, the harsh training they’ve received in order to better serve the people of Insomnia. He remembers how they learn to maintain a steady voice, no matter what news they report or what may be happening around them.

 

Ignis nods. It’s at that moment that he notices a backpack clasped in the officer’s hand. The fabric of the bag is red, fading from use and from age of it, and he can barely make out words written upon the fabric, a simple motto. “Always give your best.”

 

Ignis reads the words, and as he finishes, he sees an unfamiliar, darker red stain scattered across the bottom of the bag. It certainly hadn’t been there this morning, and it’s not part of the design. Instead, it looks like -

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Black forms at the corners of his vision, and it’s with a numb feeling settling in that he realizes the world around him is disappearing. The furniture, the stern and somehow forlorn face fading away like a gust of wind.

 

The last thing to leave before he’s greeted by darkness again is the red backpack, with the words Ignis wrote upon them the very last thing he sees.

 

////

 

He yells, the sound angrily echoing through the familiar image of the stars that encircle him. Ignis is alone again, with only the listless laughter that always greets him when he returns to this same place.

 

“Let me try again,” Ignis begs, frantically spinning around in every direction. Only the stars greet him and face him - unmoving, unrelenting, unforgiving stars. His words echo against them.

 

That laugh makes its return, and the Gods reply,  _ “You haven’t tired of the same result yet? You haven’t seen Noctis die enough?” _

 

“I can save him,” Ignis persists, voice stern and without doubt clouding. He’s going to be able to do it - this he knows, but when he closes his eyes, he sees Noctis. And he doesn’t see the image of Noctis that he remembers anymore - instead, he sees his prince surrounded by blood. He sees his prince laying still on the ground, chest unmoving and heart still.

 

He can’t allow those images to tarnish his mind any more than they already have - this time, he absolutely has to save Noctis. He has to bring him back. There is no more room for failure.

 

Ignis grips hold of the sparkling star in front of him, renewed determination pooling. He’s going to bring Noctis back - he’s going to. This time, he will.

 

////

 

“Your Highness, it’s time to get up for the day.”

 

Ignis awakens easily, opening his eyes and quickly sitting up in bed. This time, he’s surrounded by ornate furniture, trimmed with a shimmering gold paint. He shakes his head just once, hoping that with the movement, this image will vanish.

 

Instead, a familiar voice pipes up again, “You really have to find your way out of bed quickly. If you don’t, your father is going to be rather upset. The important council meeting is today.”

 

Ignis turns to look in the direction of the voice - just behind him, a clock reads six in the morning. He hears the methodical tick, tick,  _ tick  _ of time wasting away as he gazes at Noctis. Noctis, black hair polished and pressing against his face, dressed impeccably in a black suit. A small plays on his face, and he says, “It’s not like you to be sleeping so late.”

 

“It’s not like you to be up and aware so early,” Ignis quips, before he can even think about the meaning of the words. He gets up from bed then, rummaging through the drawers of his dresser for the clothing for the day.

 

Noctis laughs, “I suppose you’re right, but when my duty calls, I can’t sleep in.”

 

Ignis stops in his tracks, bringing the room to silence again. His hands grip the edge of the open drawer as he asks, “Duty?”

 

“Your sleep must’ve been deep to forget that,” Noctis laughs, remaining in the same spot of the room. His eyes, however, follow Ignis as he moves when he says, “I’ve been your retainer since you were three. How could you forget that?”

 

Ignis remains quiet again, though he’s certain the look on his face is one of shock. The smile fades from Noctis’s face and he says, “I guess you must’ve slept really hard to forget something like that. Anyway, we really should be getting ready for the day. After the council meeting, you’ve got a lunch with Niflheim ambassadors.”

 

“I somehow doubt they’re here just for a friendly chat,” Ignis mumbles, words spilling out before he can second guess. Everything feels uneven, as though the world is tilted and he can’t find a grip on anything. Perhaps it would be best, he decides, to just go through the motions of this path. After all, the enemies should be after his life, not Noctis. This could be his opportunity.

 

Noctis nods, “I think you’re right. But you’ll still have to entertain them all the same.”

 

The council meeting proceeds as it normally would - Ignis pulls from his training as Noctis’s retainer in order to better serve the discussion. It’s ironic, but it does the job. Noctis stands by him the entire time, shoulders back and gaze unrelenting, though he’s certain the black-haired man is wishing he could be back in bed.

 

Fatigue even tugs at Noctis’s eyes as they walk to their next destination. Ignis has quickened steps, and Noctis moves to keep up with him. He hides a yawn behind his palm as he says, “You’re acting a little different today. Is everything okay?”

 

_ I keep seeing you die over and over, and I just want to see you survive. _

 

“Just a little apprehensive,” Ignis replies, turning to look at Noctis. Breath gets caught in his throat as he says, “Just . . . please promise me one thing.”

 

Noctis raises his eyebrows.

 

“Don’t try and protect me. I don’t want you to lose your life because of me.”  _ Not again. _

 

Noctis smiles and replies, “I don’t know if I can keep that promise, Your Highness, but I can try.”

 

Ignis accepts that and they continue to walk into the grand dining room. Everything is immaculately decorated, just like the Citadel dining room that Ignis grew up in, grew up with prince Noctis. Now, however, he’s the prince and Noctis is dutifully following after him. 

 

The ambassadors from Niflheim are awaiting them when they arrive, and when Ignis sees a familiar swell of red, wavy hair, he feels ice settle into his veins.

 

“Prince Ignis, such a delight to see you again,” Ardyn says, reaching his hand out to shake Ignis’s own, “I’m sure today will be a beneficial day for all involved.”

 

“I agree,” Ignis says, “Now, let us continue with our meal. I’m sure you must be famished after your travel.”

 

They take a seat at the table, Noctis to the right of Ignis, and maids and servants dutifully bring out the dishes. Some are familiar Insomnian dishes, while others are foreign to him.

 

Ardyn chuckles, “Oh, we brought a couple of Niflheim staple dishes. I do hope you enjoy them.”

 

Ignis nods and reaches out to spoon a bit onto his plate - it’s a mere formality, as nerves continue to freeze his lungs, but Noctis reaches out first. He pulls Ignis’s hand back, leaning closely to whisper, “Let me try it first.”

 

“You’re not going to do that,” Ignis retorts back, staring at Noctis. The black-haired man is determined, instead spooning a bit of chicken onto his own plate before taking a bite. He chews it quickly, swallowing it down without incident before giving Ignis a smile.

 

“Just don’t eat it right now, wait for a moment.” Ignis is listening, but the words seem to fade straight through him. His heart hammers against his chest, and the utensil in his hand feels heavy and unreal, but he continues the conversation with the ambassadors.

 

Everything seems to progress normally, without a single incident, and Ignis feels the worry inside of him start to ebb away. When it’s time to get up and retire to his room for the evening, he starts to walk away. He thinks of something that’s been playing on the corners of his mind - he wants to tell Noctis of his current journey. He wants to tell him that he needs to make sure Noctis remains safe, so that they can continue to live together without worry.

 

Instead, as he walks and begins to leave the room, a dull thud echoes through his ears. He stops in place and turns around to face the cause of the noise, though suddenly everything feels as though it’s slowing down, and Ignis can already start to see little pieces of the scenery around him fade into black.

 

He knows what it means, but it does not prepare him for the sight.

 

Noctis has collapsed to the floor, stomach pressed against the tile beneath him. A small pool of blood from his mouth forms, and his eyes are clenched shut. Ignis rushes to his side, trying to check for some sign of life - something, anything, even as the others around them fade from the world, disappearing one by one.

 

There’s no pulse, there’s no breath - nothing. Ignis has lost him again.

 

“No,” he breathes, shaking Noctis, holding tightly onto cooling skin, “Noctis, you can’t leave me. Not again. You can’t.”

 

The more he desperately begs, the faster the world vanishes from view. Everything turns dark and as Ignis looks at Noctis again, he watches as the person he care for most in the entire world disappears.

 

He tries to hold onto his hand, reaching for it, but it vanishes, and again, Ignis is left with nothing.

 

////

 

_ “I wonder if it’s sunken in yet.”  _ That same voice - that same grating, condescending voice greets Ignis again, and the image of the stars circling around him makes his stomach churn uncomfortably.

 

Ignis yells, “Give Noctis back to me!” He’s looking around the vast emptiness, as though looking for the source of the voice. He knows he will never be able to see it.

 

The voice laughs again and says,  _ “Do you truly think the next result will be any different? You can try, but you already know how it will end.” _

 

Ignis does try - he tries again, and again, and again. He loses track of just how many times he grabs hold of a glimmering star, and how many times he’s thrown into another world where he and Noctis have intersecting lives.

 

Again and again he tries to change fate, tries to keep Noctis from harm.

 

Again and again, Ignis could only watched as Noctis was yanked from him. Again and again, Ignis watched Noctis die.

 

It was different each and every time - murder, car accident, illness, wrong place at the wrong time, but it all ended the same. It ended with Ignis, standing in an ever-growing darkness. The darkness seemed to spread from the outside within him, and with each death, Ignis could feel hopelessness start to grow.

 

He can’t seem to save Noctis - no matter how much he tries.

 

////

 

Ignis wakes up in another path. It’s not even surprising anymore as he takes in his surroundings. There’s always a clock ticking away, reminding him of the time he’s spent jumping through path after path, time he’s spent watching Noctis die.

 

He finds himself seated at a dining room table again, this time newspaper strewn about the wood furniture. Ignis pushes his glasses up and grips hold of the pages. It must be from the most recent day, he assumes, and he checks the headline.

 

_ Royal Family Speech in Danger - Fears of War Heighten. _

 

Ignis pinches the bridge of his nose, releasing a deep sigh. Of course, this path has more fire and more unpredictable variables than the others. Certainly, it can’t be more than he can handle. He’s already been through so many paths to begin with.

 

A television sits nearby, and so Ignis decides to check for the latest news. The article he’s read through must be older news compared to what’s happened this morning, and so he quickly turns it on. There’s a moment where he chuckles - how many times has he found himself in a new path and checked the news like this? The voice of a frantic reporter fills the silence of the room he’s in.

 

_ “This is breaking news. Earlier this morning, prince Noctis Lucis Caelum was out for a morning stroll with his bodyguard when what appears to be Niflheim soldiers attacked the surrounding area. Both his bodyguard and prince Noctis have lost their lives, murdered in the busy city streets. Insomnian officials have called this a declaration of war and king Regis has promised retaliation and vengeance to those who committed this act. While his bodyguard died on the scene, prince Noctis had been transported to the Citadel hospital wing before his wounds proved too much to overcome. As a result, the city will enter into a state of mourning as next steps are discussed.” _

 

Ignis slams his hand down against the wood table. He feels pain radiate through his hand, but he can’t find himself to care anymore. He hits the table again, and again, over and over until specks of blood drip onto the splintered wood. It doesn’t feel like enough - it never feels like enough, and he lets out a yell that echoes across the walls surrounding him.

 

“What is your point?” Ignis angrily asks, turning around to face the front door to the home he’s in. His breath is releasing in angry bursts and he continues, “There was no chance to save him in this path!”

 

_ “It seems you’re understanding now.” _

 

Now Ignis has been brought back to the same location - the same stars and darkness surrounding him. He’s grown too familiar with this location, and the anger continues to surge through him.

 

“Understand what?” Ignis snaps, his hands tightened into fists. His hand still hurts from where he’s hit the table. Even though that path, that journey, had already ended, he still feels that same pain. He closes his eyes tightly, and another image of Noctis comes into view. He’s still smiling - just like he did all those years ago, sitting in the Regalia on their journey, but the image feels faded. He’s seen Noctis die too many times that the happier moments feel as though they’re drifting away on the wind.

 

It’s silent around him. Two, three, five seconds pass before the voice says, _ “You can’t save Noctis, no matter how many times you try. You’ll never be able to bring him back. Give up, and allow yourself to remain here. When you die, you can reunite with him.” _

 

“No,” Ignis gasps, “You’re wrong. I can save him.”

 

_ “You can’t. The dead aren’t meant to return, especially not him. Nothing you do will be able to help them. Shouldn’t you have figured this out already? You’ve tried over thirty times and each time has been the same.” _

 

Each time, Ignis has had to watch Noctis die. Each time, Ignis has had to deal with the feeling of failure pressing upon his shoulders. He feels heavy, the world pulling him down into the ground.

 

“Just one more,” Ignis begs, voice breaking, “I need one more chance. I can do it. I will bring Noctis back to the world, no matter the cost. Just give me one more chance.”

 

The voice hums,  _ “As you wish. One last opportunity. If you fail, you’re to remain here for the rest of your life. I hope you understand what you’re getting yourself into.” _

 

Ignis nods - he does; he feels it now more than ever. But he knows that his life would even be of little consequence if it meant bringing Noctis back.

 

He can do it - this time, he’s going to make sure of it. After all, the Gods have never encountered someone like him before.

 

////

 

When Ignis awakens, he hears the monotonous sound of the clock ticking away. He doesn’t hesitate this time - not anymore, he hasn’t the time for doubt. He finds himself running into the busy streets. People are hurrying about their day, actively chattering about the upcoming coronation. The conversations are familiar, just like the very first attempt he made to save Noctis. 

 

He retraces his steps, taking a seat at the same place in the market. Cindy gives him food, just as she did before. Noctis comes barreling through the market, hiding at his table just like he did before. It’s all the same - truly, perhaps the gods are on his side. He’s made mistake after mistake in each path, and this time, he has no intention of repeating them.

 

Noctis raises his hand, a shy grin on his face, and opens his mouth to speak. However, Ignis interrupts him, “Noctis, I need you to listen to me very carefully.”

 

“What? Who are you?” He’s confused. That’s understandable, but Ignis has no time to slow down.

 

“My name is Ignis. You don’t know me in this moment, but you know me in another life, in another path. But Noctis, you have to believe me when I say your life is in danger today. Let me protect you.”

 

Silence falls between the two of them, and Noctis stares incredulously at him. His fingers drum against the wood table between them, and Ignis is unrelenting.

 

“You sound so sincere,” Noctis says, “I guess I have to believe you. But how do you know all of this?”

 

Ignis smiles and says, “I’ve been through this a few times. Just . . . let me stick close by your side. I will keep you safe through your speech.”

 

Noctis agrees.

  
  


Ignis isn’t sure how he manages to convince Noctis, and he even asks him on the way to the Citadel square. Everything is set up just like it was the first time, with a makeshift stage created in the center. People are already beginning to gather, and Ignis has a hard time hearing Noctis over the bustle of the day.

 

“There’s something about you that’s so familiar,” Noctis says quietly, “I just think there’s something comfortable with you. I feel relaxed. I don’t know.” He smiles, and Ignis finds the world falling into a standstill. 

 

The afternoon proceeds just like it did that first time - the first attempt Ignis made at saving Noctis. Regis begins to address the crowd, someone screams, and the ground shakes. Soldiers from Niflheim spread out amongst the people, trying to fight their way through to the royal family. Kingsglaive meet them, the sound of metal scraping against metal.

 

One of the Niflheim soldiers makes a strike at Regis, but the king skillfully blocks it. Noctis, however, does the same thing he did the very first time - he runs towards his father, leaving himself wide open for an attack. Robotic soldiers trained for only combat easily see this, and one of them swings his blade at the prince, striking down.

  
  


Noctis yells, falling backwards. The only pain the prince feels is the pain of colliding against the wood stage. His father calls to him, but Noctis doesn’t hear him.

 

He takes a look in front of him. The soldier that attempted to take his life lies on the ground, lifeless. But the man he just met, the blond with thin-framed glasses and a confident stance, lies in a pool of blood. It flows outward easily, and the stench reaches Noctis and before he can even react, he’s kneeling in it and grabbing towards this familiar stranger - towards Ignis.

 

“Stay with me,” he says frantically, holding tightly onto Ignis’s shoulders. His hands, they won’t stop shaking. The fabric of Ignis’s dress shirt shifts with every twitch he makes, and Noctis feels his heart thrumming. He keeps repeating the same words over and over, “Please, stay with me. You’re going to be okay.”

 

Ignis laughs, coughing as a small trail of blood falls from his lips. His voice is wheezing as he says, “To think, you don’t remember me. Not like I remember you. But you still find a way to care.”

 

Noctis feels his eyes sting, and he shakes his head as he mumbles, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But if you stay with me, we can figure it out. You saved my life.”

 

Ignis smiles. Noctis’s image is becoming dull and faded, and the sky just beyond him is fading into black. Everything feels cold, a chill running through his veins. There’s no pain - not anymore. Seeing Noctis, wide-eyed, tears falling down his cheeks, is enough. He’s alive.

 

_ When you die, you can reunite with him _

 

He closes his eyes. Perhaps the Gods were right after all.

 

The last thing Ignis hears is Noctis screaming.

 

////

 

_ “That certainly wasn’t something I expected.” _

 

Ignis opens his eyes carefully, taking in his surroundings. Those same useless stars are encircling him. That same voice, the same haughty voice of the Gods, is the only thing keeping him company.

 

And yet, Ignis can’t help but laugh. “It’s because of your words, you know. If I have to die in order to be with him, then that’s something I can handle.”

 

There’s silence again, and Ignis closes his eyes. He expects the end to come. He’s died now, but Noctis is safe. At least in one of the paths he remains alive. That’s all that matters.

 

_ “You truly are unexpected, Ignis Scientia. Perhaps something can be arranged for you.” _

 

The world goes dark again, and Ignis doesn’t mind it. He can see Noctis’s face, smiling, clearly once again.

  
  


For the first time in what feels like eternity, Ignis knows where he is when he awakens. He’s back in the Citadel, the rebuilt remains of a kingdom in ruins. He takes a deep breath, heaviness weighing him down. He’s back where he started, but he should’ve left this world.

 

Still, he continues about his usual routine. Blurry images become normal for him again, as does helping the citizens rebuild.

 

Gladio comes up to him again today and asks, “Do you need any help getting things prepared?” Things feel normal again - as normal as they can be, without Noctis around. 

 

Ignis sighs, “I should be fine. There’s nothing to be done, really. The surviving council members don’t want to elect a king just yet.”

 

“I suppose I can’t blame them,” Gladio says. He shifts, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “I want a miracle as much as the rest of them, but I don’t think something like that is going to happen.”

 

Ignis hums, and continues walking towards his destination. He hears Prompto, voice anxious and loud, as he barrels through the hallways.

 

“No, but I really did see him! What, ghosts aren’t real and you know it. Why do you think I just saw a ghost?”

 

Ignis ignore him and walks into the meeting room. He walks carefully until he finds his seat. The council that’s arrived are quiet as well, as though unable to find the right words.

 

“Perhaps we should get this meeting taken care of,” Ignis announces, pressing his hands against the table. The others in the room remain quiet, leaving Ignis to silence. His hands tighten into fists and before he can say something else, the door to the room bursts open again. Heavy footsteps follow, with one step sounding heavier than the other. Whoever has arrived favors one leg over the other.

 

“Ignis is correct. Let’s get things started.”

 

Ignis freezes. The voice is so familiar, painfully so, and yet he shakes his head. He’s not in another path - he’s failed time and time again, so he’s only been allowed to come back by the graciousness of the Gods. However, it still stands that -

 

Noctis walks closer to him, and the image of him gets clearer. Not much has changed since that day, the day that Noctis gave his life for the world. His hair is longer, pressed against his face, and Ignis can still make out wisps of hair that grace his face. He can also see a small smile as he looks around the room.

 

“I’ve made it back,” Noctis says, and his hand comes to rest on Ignis’s. His hand trembles just once, for he will not allow it to move anymore.

 

Ignis smiles and says, “Welcome home, my king.”

 

Noctis is smiling, and as Ignis blinks, he sees the image of Noctis smiling again - picture brighter than ever before it fades away into what he sees now. Noctis, the king, much older than before, but the smile ever the same.

 

Perhaps everything was worth it, after all.

  
  


Evening falls, and Ignis stands in Noctis’s room. Noctis is seated on his bed, looking around the room with wide eyes.

 

“You saved me,” Noctis says quietly, “I don’t know how you did it. If you made a deal to give up your life or soul or anything, please-“

 

Ignis stops him, “No, it was nothing of the sort. I just, I had to get you back. A world without you isn’t a world I want to be a part of.”

 

Ignis reaches out, and Noctis grabs hold of his hand. Where there used to be chill, there’s an overwhelming feeling of warmth. Ignis moves to sit beside of him on the bed, and Noctis leans into Ignis.

 

“The same if you left me, Ignis,” Noctis says, fatigue in his voice. “I need you here with me. I love you too much to be without you.”

 

Ignis smiles, because he understands the feeling. A world without Noctis isn’t a world at all.

 

Gods be damned. Noctis is here by his side, and now the world feels complete again. With one more breath, he banishes the images of Noctis, dead and vanishing, from his mind. He imagines them colliding with the stars, mixing and meshing until they’re no more.

 

Noctis is with him again, now. And it’s all worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! Thank you for reading I’m actually really nervous LOL anyway I hope y’all enjoyed!! I hope to write more ffxv fics in the future!! If you’d like to talk to me I’m on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/cosmicbubble_) !!! I’d also like to thank everyone who supported me while I wrote this fic bc it felt crazy but less so bc of y’all! Again thank you for reading!!!


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